Cherish the Season
by Pheonicia
Summary: A rediscovery of love set to the tide of the changing seasons.  Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1:  Winter's Chill

_Author's Note: Oblivion and the Elder Scrolls series are owned by Bethesda._

_This is a continuation to Twist of Fate. If you haven't read that then you'll still be able to follow along, but I highly recommend you go and read it first. Take your time – I'll wait right here._

_That being said this isn't Twist of Fate Part II – The Empire Strikes Back. This is a fluffy little piece that features the romance between two characters. So if you're in the mood for love, read on._

_And this story is dedicated to the lovely and talented Kytten, whose continual campaign to have me give the High Chancellor some happiness led to the creation of this piece._

* * *

Winter's Chill

Fat flakes of snow pressed themselves against the window, their crystalline structures leaving trails of moisture as they slid down, pulled by gravity to join their brethren below. Placing one golden fingertip against the cold glass he traced the journey of a particularly large clump of snowflakes, their forms seemingly intertwined in tandem as a brave defence against the hint of warmth in the air that caused their delicate tips and lacy branches to soften into dull points.

Chill grey twilight lit up the district below, reflected by the thick blanket of sodden snow that had coated every tombstone, every monument, and every inch of ground. With a satisfied nod he turned to go. If he tarried any longer it would be too late.

Ocato glanced at his desk as he walked over to get his cloak from its resting place over the back of the tall armchair beside the fire. The stacks of parchment that had demanded his immediate attention were now on the side closest to the door, waiting to be removed by his aides. It had taken a solid week's worth of work just to get caught up but he'd made enough progress to allow time for some small personal indulgences.

As he worked the carved ivory button into the loop of thick felt at the neck of the cape he sighed gently. Much as he was pleased that he no longer shouldered the weight of the Empire alone he still hadn't gotten fully used to the new Emperor and Empress. They were both so…odd. It was a relief to send them off to continue their tour of the provinces. Their presence in the Palace always seemed to coincide with a decrease in his personal productivity.

The amount of distractions Lilia and Martin provided while in residence was rather remarkable. Between the odd assortment of visitors they frequently welcomed, the required dinners, parties, and meetings that their station demanded, and their unusual antics Ocato found it very difficult to concentrate.

Their brief sojourn in the Imperial City to mark the end of year festivities had been no exception. The Count of Skingrad had shown up again. No matter how much they seemed to trust him, Ocato was always a little wary of Janus Hassildor. The man was a vampire after all. The undead were not known for their devotion.

And that insufferable Telvanni had been present as well. Ocato wasn't overly fond of the new Imperial Battlemage. He still didn't think putting Fathis Aren in charge of the elite group of magically trained soldiers was the best of plans. Especially since he wasn't quite like any Telvanni that Ocato had met. The Dunmer laughed far too frequently for a power hungry Wizard. Though he couldn't deny the usefulness of the mer's atronachs. Currently fire elementals stalked up and down the ancient corridors of White Gold Tower. At least they provided a bit of warmth to heat the old stone walls.

Leaving a wide berth as he passed alongside one of the flaming creatures he couldn't help shaking his head when he saw the familiar arched doors leading into the Elder Council chambers. That was another thing he enjoyed – he never needed to knock before entering when the Emperor and Empress weren't home. Discovering Lilia climbing the walls while Martin watched and Fathis clutched his sides on the ground, roaring with laughter, was a spectacle that he'd never forget. Then there had been that time he'd entered to find Martin stalking around the large stone table while Lilia had been crawling around underneath it, giggling as she avoided the telekinesis spell that kept knocking over the red silk padded chairs. As soon as they'd sensed Ocato's presence Martin had immediately straightened up and Lilia had emerged from under the table in her most regal posture, her noble bearing somewhat lessened by the silence spell fading from her, the dirty smudges on her gown, and the remarkably wicked grin on her lips. He hadn't for a moment believed that she'd been searching for a dropped earring.

And the last incident would forever be burnt into his mind. A little shiver ran through Ocato as he walked outside into the Palace district that had nothing to do with winter's chill. Entering the Elder Council chambers to see them giving one another meaningful looks as they sat across from each other, the hidden message quite obvious, hadn't been the problem. The miniature fire atronach and ice elemental wrestling on the ancient and venerable table had. Because unlike what he'd first thought the magical figures hadn't actually been wrestling…

Pushing the disturbing mental images from his mind he glanced around as he entered the Arboretum. The murky cold light of that colourless time between night and day was transitioning slowly into a golden hue. The snow had stopped and as he glanced towards the east he caught a glimpse of blue sky between the thick clouds. Dawn was his favourite time of day. So many people were still asleep, the city still quiet, and he found it a perfect time for personal reflection.

Ocato slowed his pace as he walked along the path, the curve of the cobblestones barely discernible through the carpet of snow that coated the ground. Everything was outlined with white-- the jutting branches of the trees, the thin twigs of the bushes, even the few leaves that had refused to fall, clinging on disconsolately in denial of the change in seasons. The sound of the guards' footsteps as they stamped their feet, trying to keep them warm as they stood sentinel by the district gates, was barely discernible. The snow muffled the noises, allowing Ocato to imagine himself alone as he took in the sight of winter's stark beauty.

So the very loud and very indelicate sniff caught him by surprise. Looking around he noticed a figure sitting on a nearby bench, the white cloak blending into the background almost as well as a chameleon enchantment. Curious as to the identity of the owner of the pale fabric he walked closer, clearing his throat softly to warn of his approach. Ocato didn't want to startle the person.

He caught sight of a lace handkerchief being brought down from her face before he recognized Countess Umbranox. Her brown eyes, so light in colour they could almost pass for the amber eyes of a mer, were rimmed with pink. He guessed that the ruddy tone of her nose had not been caused solely by the cold.

"Good morning High Chancellor. You're up early." The polite and clipped manner in which she greeted him indicated that she didn't at all appreciate the interruption. The squared shoulders, impersonal smile, and wary eyes reinforced the impression.

"Greetings Countess Umbranox. I'd say I'm up at just the right time, as I have the good fortune of finding your pleasant company here in the Arboretum. Is Count Umbranox with you?" Ocato nodded gently at her while he asked and instantly regretted his question. She visibly stiffened in response.

"No. Count Umbranox is off visiting Dareloth. And I'd prefer you not call me Countess Umbranox. If you must call me anything, then call me Millona." The tight smile and slightly bitter words didn't surprise him. The relationship between the mysteriously returned Count of Anvil and the Countess was known not to be a particularly good one.

"Then I must insist you call me Ocato. It was very good to see you again. I should continue my walk and leave you on your own. Please forgive my interruption." Bowing slightly he turned to go, recognizing the Imperial's desire for solitude. It was something he shared.

"Wait." Millona's firm voice was both a command and a plea. Looking back he noticed her wave towards the space on the bench beside her. "Won't you join me for a moment?"

Carefully arranging the folds of his thick cloak he sat down beside her, curious as to her request. Over the past years he'd met Millona occasionally when political business had called her from Anvil to the Imperial City. She'd always been very level headed, very polite, and rather aloof. Still, Ocato found her to be one of the more engaging of Cyrodiilic nobility. Praise Auri-El that Count Terentius rarely left Bravil.

They sat in silence, both lost in thought as they watched the dawn slowly creep over them. The occasional patch of sunlight would poke through the clouds providing spotlights of illumination on the world. Ocato couldn't help smiling. The promise of another day in which to do and see and learn, the possibilities that presented themselves, was an inspiring thought. Ever since that dark day when red clouds had swathed the city in a coat of fear and the gates of Oblivion had poured forth armies of daedra, he'd come to appreciate the dawning of a new day even more. The frightening figure of Mehrunes Dagon in the midst of the Temple district was something that still occasionally intruded into his nightmares.

"It must all seem so trifling to you. The races of men with their short lives and their short-sighted ambitions." Millona's voice brought him back from his reverie and Ocato realized he'd forgotten about her as he'd drifted off into his meditations. "We must be rather inconsequential to the timeless mer."

"No. Quite the opposite, actually." He glanced over at her as he replied, curious as to what had caused her thoughts. She wasn't looking at him though. Following her line of vision he could tell that she was staring at the branches of the tree in front of her, watching as an occasional clump of snow fell from the dark wet wood. Millona didn't answer, merely smirking slightly in response.

"The races of men are fascinating to us. You are so vital, so alive, such a constant whirlwind of activity. That's why I choose to live here rather than in the Summerset Isles. I find being around you inspirational."

Millona made a sharp little noise, something that might have been called a laugh had it not been for the fact that it was bitter and devoid of all trace of amusement. Ocato remained silent, studying her as she looked up at him.

"I don't think you'd find me very inspirational. For the last eleven years I've lived my life in stasis. It's funny, isn't it? We think we want something but rarely are we satisfied when we get it." She sighed softly as her glance fell down to his neck. As she continued to speak her gloved hands came up to slide the button back into the loop. He really needed to get that fixed. His cloak was continually threatening to fall off. Too bad the Palace seamstress was always so busy tending to the Empress' wardrobe.

"I thought my life was in limbo before, but now I realize that it wasn't. This current state of indecision is far worse. If only someone could make up my mind for me." She gave the button a soft pat into place as she finished talking.

"Have you prayed for guidance?" Ocato asked softly. She just shook her head and sighed.

"No, I don't think the Gods would help me with this. After all, I prayed for eleven years to be in this situation in the first place. I played the role of the dutiful devout martyr, so busy deluding myself I forgot what it was that I was actually missing. Memory is a very malleable thing." Millona was frowning down at her gloves, her lower bottom lip stuck out in a small semblance of a pout.

"What is it that you want to happen? What does your heart tell you?"

"I don't know. I have my duties, my vows, and my honour. What sort of person would I be if I forsook those?" She was looking at him again and he noticed that her eyes weren't amber. They were soft brown, with flecks of gold highlighting the irises. He'd always found Millona rather attractive for an Imperial.

"You'd be human." He answered with a smile. Those who were not merfolk understood the value of time, the importance of seizing onto happiness whenever the opportunity presented itself. It was one of the traits he admired most about them.

So the way she glared at him as if he'd insulted her terribly was a surprise. Standing up she shook the snow off her white cloak, heedless of the flakes that fell all over him in the process.

"I'm glad you have such a high opinion of those who are not elvenkind. Not all of us are without honour or dedication or patience. I thank you for your company but I must be on my way. Good day." Millona's voice was far colder than the chill air surrounding them as she took her departure.

Sitting on the bench, brushing the snow from his robes, Ocato sighed deeply. That was one of the traits he cared for the least - their predilection for jumping to conclusions all the time. If only they could learn to curb such impulses. He'd never yet met an Altmer who'd leave a conversation in a huff. Perhaps with a few well-placed destruction spells, yes, but never in a huff.


	2. Chapter 2:  Spring's Radiance

The streets of the Market district were coated in a thick layer of fog, rendering the patches of grass and blooming wildflowers somehow even more vibrant and verdant with the contrast. The soft press of damp air against his skin reminded him of home. Most people thought of the Summerset Isles as being a land of eternal sunshine, forgetting the fact that it was an island surrounded by water. Winter more frequently brought fog, mist, and clinging moisture than cold or snow to the land of the Altmer.

It was almost noon as he made his way through the bustling crowd towards the shop, grateful to be out of the Palace. Ocato abandoned all hope of getting anything accomplished today. The Emperor and Empress were back, and they weren't alone.

Their daughter, Princess Makela, had arrived last month on the 25th of Rain's Hand. Ocato still didn't know why they'd chosen a Yokudan name for her – she didn't look anything like a Redguard. The tiny infant had the same blue eyes as her father and full lips as her mother. Fortunately most of the resemblance ended there. Makela hadn't inherited her father's unfortunately large jaw, or her mother's square one. And her hair was a most regular shade of dark brown. Her skin was a touch dusky, but not too much. And the only trace of her elven heritage that Ocato could detect was the wee little point of her ears, very subtle and rather sweet.

Her welcome arrival had unfortunately caused an influx of visitors. This morning he'd found not only the Telvanni and the vampire in the large salon beside the nursery, but also Lord Lovidicus, his Dunmer Gladiator friend, and a Redguard with long brown hair tied back in a ponytail. Martin had been chatting politely with all of them when a sudden small explosion from the hallway had startled everyone. The Fighters Guild Master and his Breton companion had slunk into the room. The sight of the bits of brown rock dust clinging to them were a clear indication that they hadn't been expecting to find a storm atronach patrolling the hallways.

Fathis had become rather upset with the destruction of his elemental guard. His tart comments to Delphine had caused Modryn to get agitated, his large mohawk bobbing as he emphatically defended the Mages Guild member's actions. As the others in the room had chimed in, trying to ease the ruffled egos of the two Dark Elves, the doors to the nursery had suddenly burst open and that slightly violent Bosmeri friend of the Empress' had emerged, looking as though she was about to start kicking everyone. Though it had been the sight of the Empress herself, one hand coated with magical fire, the other hand clutching the squalling Princess - who'd been about to go down for a nap - was what had triggered Ocato's sudden remembrance that he had a pressing appointment to be somewhere far away from the Palace.

And so he'd decided to stop in at Divine Elegance and see if his new robes were ready. He found Palonirya's designs to be quite flattering. The duties that forced him to spend most of his hours behind his desk, combined with the constant round of dinners, banquets, and luncheon meetings, had caused a slight thickening in his midsection. It wasn't a paunch, he'd never consider that word for a second. He was merely somewhat more solid. He'd almost managed to convince himself that it was rather dignified.

Opening the door he came across the rather delightful sight of a very generous, and very well shaped, derriere in front of him. Trying not to admire the view too much he cleared his throat. As she stood up and turned around he was aware that he almost gasped. This was the last place he expected to meet her again.

"Greetings High Chancellor. I'm afraid Palonirya is out today with a touch of the collywobbles. But your robes are ready." Millona greeted him with a polite smile.

"Countess Umbranox. What a delightful surprise to see you here." As he spoke he quickly took in the changes in her appearance. As far as he was concerned she looked…radiant. Her light brown curls were pulled back, a couple of ringlets floating freely to frame her face. She looked refreshed and somehow younger, though her eyes were narrow and her lips pursed in a frown. He noticed that her bottom lip always stuck out a bit more than the top one whenever she did that.

"It's just Millona now. Millona Oranius, actually." As she turned her back on him, bustling off to fetch his clothing, he mentally cursed himself. He'd heard the recent rumours that the two had finally split for good, but he'd called her Countess out of habit. Ocato didn't doubt she hadn't liked that.

"Millona." He said the name half to himself and half to her. Curiosity about what she was doing working in Divine Elegance of all places overwhelmed him. But he didn't start interrogating her just yet. Ocato was too busy admiring as she bent forward to rummage under the counter, looking for the receipt book. She was an amply proportioned woman, and just the sort he preferred. The simple green gown, with its scooped neckline, did a very good job of displaying her bountiful assets.

"Do we charge this to your account at the Palace? Or do you pay in gold?" She asked him. While she'd stopped frowning she hadn't yet begun smiling. Ocato did though. One of her loose tendrils of hair had gotten coiled on top of her head in a most undignified manner.

"Gold." He replied while reaching forward and pulling the trapped curl free. As his hand guided it back down to frame her lovely face he paused for a moment, sure that a subtle energy, a frisson of attraction, had passed between them.

As he paid for his purchases Ocato couldn't help noticing the way Millona's lips were twitching in a hint of a smile, or the slight flush on her cheeks. Not wanting to return to the Palace so soon, and not wanting to leave the store, he hit upon an idea.

"When do you usually take lunch?" He tried to sound as casual as possible as he inquired. By Auri-El, he felt like an awkward child as he waited for her answer. For the mer who'd run the Empire single-handedly for over a year the fact that she'd somehow managed to make him feel nervous was utterly charming.

"About now. On Loredas I only work half-days, so I'm almost done my shift." She replied lightly, almost too lightly. He was sure she was stealing glances at him as she tidied the counter.

"Then would you like to join me? I'd appreciate the company." He asked the question and reminded himself not to hold his breath. Millona paused in her movements and he saw that one side of her mouth twitched up in a grin, a small curl of pleasure. He'd seen her smile like that before whenever she'd managed to broker a good deal for Anvil.

"I think I'd like that." As she answered he was glad to see that she was finally smiling.

* * *

"She's not really ill. It's just another hangover." Millona whispered conspiratorially to him over the remnants of the meal. He'd had a most enjoyable feast of crab salad on a bed of lettuce accompanied by squib jelly on toast. For some reason the Palace kitchens never served such delicacies. Instead they seemed to have a predilection for all manner of mutton. 

"Who is it this time?" He asked, leaning his head down after glancing exaggeratedly around the Merchant's Inn. Millona had mentioned she would need to return here after her work ended and he'd suggested they dine in. It was also far less likely that anyone would interrupt either one of them during the meal. He doubted he'd be left in peace if they'd gone to the Tiber Septim Hotel. Augusta Calidia couldn't resist bustling about her more prestigious customers and Ocato was quite sick of her constant inquiries as to his liking of her soups.

"This isn't the first time?" She asked and laughed when Ocato shook his head. "It's Thoronir. Ever since he bought that mansion in the Talos Plaza district she's apparently been after him. The poor mer. He seems like such a nice little fellow."

"Don't worry, she'll find something more attractive soon enough." Palonirya's habit of trying to land a very rich, and very malleable, companion was well known among the elven community. He'd dodged a bit of that himself when he'd first assumed the position of Arch Mage. It had taken one dinner, and one experience with her bad habit of trying to drink her dates under the table, for him to realize that it simply wouldn't work.

"But tell me, how did you come to be working for her?" He asked. They'd discussed the standard generic topics at the beginning of the meal, going over the latest gossip from the provinces and the newest rumour surrounding the Empress before the leisurely meal and delightful wine had relaxed them both enough to talk about more personal subjects. Though he'd made sure to steer far away from Corvus, Anvil, or anything else that might spoil Millona's good mood.

"I'm not doing it for the pay. I've got enough residual income from my family's estates that I could retire to a life of leisure if I chose." That sweet little pout of hers was back. Her bottom lip, much fuller than her top one, stuck out as she stared at her near empty wineglass. "It was your words, actually, that got me into this. Do you remember what you said about being a vibrant whirlwind of activity?"

"Vaguely." He couldn't quite recall their conversation all those months ago, other than the fact that she'd gotten him rather wet with the snow she'd shaken off.

"Well, I couldn't forget them." She sighed softly and leaned back in her chair. He found it remarkable how she could look at him, watch him, so serenely. It wasn't that she was trying to see into him, but rather as if she was absorbing him in, letting his body language speak to her. She'd always struck him as a very intelligent woman.

"I finally realized that it was time I lived my life the way I wanted to. Corvus wasn't any happier than I was. We were both expecting the other person to go back to who they used to be, but eleven years changes a lot. Too much. And so we ended it."

"I'm sorry." He murmured and was surprised to see that little curl of her lip in response.

"Don't be. I'm not. Ever since then I've felt somehow more…alive." Shaking her head softly he watched her ringlets bounce off her skin, telltale traces of age visible in the fine lines on her face. The beautiful amber eyes somehow seemed alight with an inner glow as she continued. "I've always loved textiles – the textures, the colours, the way they drape, the way they can change the way a person or a room looks. So I decided to come to the Imperial City and work with Palonirya. I used to spend hours in her shop chatting, sketching, and occasionally even sewing. I'm actually her apprentice right now."

She drummed the fingers of her hand nervously on the table as her smile faded. "I suppose it seems so silly to you. At my age, to suddenly become an apprentice, I know it must…"

"I think it's inspiring." He interrupted her, reaching forward to smother the agitated fingers. "That's what's so wonderful about you. Knowing when to seize onto happiness, the importance of not letting time slip through your grasp."

His own long fingers stroked smoothly over the top of her petite ones as he smiled at her. The curl was on both sides of her lips now.

"Come." The word was said as an order, but also as a question. Millona stood up from the table without letting go of his hand, gently indicating for him to join her. He got up with a nod and followed her through the crowded inn, up the narrow staircase, and into her cozy little room at the end of the hall.

Locking the door behind them she stepped close to him, very close to him, and reached her hand up to the back of his neck. As she pressed her soft, yielding curves against him he paused for a moment, needing to make sure that this was real.

"Millona, I…"

"Ocato." Her firm voice answered the unfinished question. Smiling she slid her other hand up his chest to join the one softly pulling his face down towards her.

"I'm just following your suggestion and seizing happiness." She murmured before he kissed her. Or was it she that kissed him?


	3. Chapter 3:  Summer's Heat

It was the middle of the afternoon and the room was stifling. The heat wave that had been smothering the Imperial City for the last week had Ocato seriously considering going off to join the Emperor's family as they traveled through northern High Rock. Or were they in Skyrim by now? Either way he was sure it was much cooler than here.

Even though the shades were drawn his office still felt like the inside of an oven. The sleeves of his thin silk robe were rolled all the way up and his forearms stuck to the surface of the desk every time he tried to write. Perspiration rolled down his back and the thin fabric clung to his skin, the damp making everything worse. Much as he'd love to just take the blasted robe off he wasn't wearing a stitch underneath it. As it was he'd hiked up the gown so that his legs were exposed to the air. Not that he noticed it helping much.

Trying for a third time to make sense of just what it was the Bosmeri ambassador's written request was asking he finally gave up when his right eye closed on him, squinting against the sweat that had trickled into it. This was absurd. High Chancellors did not sweat like Orc warriors. Or Imptonoredbosaltkhajorcgoniamer Empresses. He still wasn't entirely sure just what Martin had meant when he'd called Lilia that, or why she'd suddenly collapsed in a fit of laughter as a result. He was fairly sure it had something to do with Nortonperials, except that didn't help him much.

Going over to the window he pulled the curtain aside, wondering if there was any relief to be had by allowing the outside air easier access into the room. But the sight of the drooping leaves of the trees, the withering grass, brown in spots, and the palace guard who'd fainted, the heat magnified by his heavy metal suit, only confirmed his suspicions.

Realizing he'd get absolutely no work done today he left the room and made his way up to his quarters. At the very least he could get out of his robe and into a nice cool bath.

So walking in to find a roaring fire in the fireplace and a damp Millona in front of it, heavy dressing gown wrapped tight around her, was not at all expected.

"Millona, please!" he shouted, firing off a ball of frost to put out the fire. She stood up and he noticed that her teeth were chattering.

"It's all very well for you to complain," she stammered out as he walked over towards her. Touching her face he noticed she felt like ice against his hand.

"What happened? Are you okay?" he asked with a touch of concern. When he'd left her this morning she'd been quite fine, a delightful mess of hair plastered to her face, perspiration beading along her upper lip, and so much tempting sticky skin.

"I took a bath." She shivered and he tugged her towards him while trying to get the thick robe open in the front. Her body was so very cold. It felt rather wonderful.

"And?"

"I tried that ice spell you taught me. Don't laugh!" she protested as he chuckled, sure he knew where her tale was going. This sort of thing happened all the time in the Arcane University, whenever new Apprentices decided they'd come up with an innovative and original way to beat the heat.

"Sorry. And then what happened?" he asked as he tugged off his own robe, the silk pulling against his sweaty skin.

"I got stuck. The ice on top was too thick." Millona had that familiar pout of hers on her face as she recalled her plight. Unable to resist he bent down and took that tempting bottom lip in between his own. The sudden exhalation of breath and shiver that ran through her probably had less to do with her body temperature and more to do with the current occupation of his hands.

"And then what?" he murmured as he sent a small feather spell into her while kissing along the underside of her jaw.

"I had to wait for it to melt. You should have taught me that fire spell," she replied, her words much slower, her indignation dissipating.

"And?" he whispered at her as he lifted her up and carried her across the room, her weight greatly lessened by magic. Millona wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck.

"I managed to make a fire to try and get warm," she answered back, her voice suddenly very husky as he placed her on the bed.

"And then?" he asked with a grin, revelling in the sight of the wonderful, decadent, inspirational woman in front of him.

"You came in," She answered, working her arms free from the thick robe. "Now let's both find out what happens next."

* * *

"Please? Just one more time. I can't sleep," She asked, her voice purring as she slid next to him.

"Blasted woman, this is my side. Get off!" Ocato pushed on that delightful rump of hers, trying to roll her away from him. She'd warmed right back up and now every time their bodies touched they stuck together in an awful clash of sweat and skin. "And the bed will collapse if I do that again."

"But it's so hot!" She pouted at him. "Ocato."

He recognized that tone, she was both ordering him and warning him. She was such a delightfully decadent creature, but even he had his limits.

"No. The mattress is soaking, the wood is probably going to warp, and if I do that again we'll wind up without a bed to sleep on." He grabbed onto her near hand and pressed it down to the bed. "And don't even think of trying to cast a frost spell yourself. You'll turn us both into icicles."

"I can't believe that the former Arch Mage doesn't have a magical solution to the heat," She muttered dryly up at the ceiling. "Does the Emperor have to sweat like this?"

"I wouldn't know." Ocato didn't want to find out just how Martin managed to stay cool in warm temperatures. He was starting to get a vaguely horrifying idea of just why the Emperor and Empress needed such frequent replacement furniture for their quarters. "Now be quiet and go to sleep."

Lying on his back he watched the light of the moons illuminate a patch on the wall, highlighting the ancient Ayleid masonry. It was always remarkable to reflect on the age of the Palace, and the inhabitants that had once resided here. The history the place had seen was staggering. If walls could talk he wondered what they'd say.

"Corvus came by the shop yesterday," Millona said quietly, her words very casual, her hidden emotions tucked away behind them.

"Oh?" Ocato replied offhand, not at all pleased with the thought. Count Umbranox hadn't exactly been gracious about the way things had worked out between Millona and himself. And he didn't like that she hadn't mentioned this yesterday.

"He brought me some flowers to wish me a happy birthday. Forty stems of Vipers Bugloss. One for each year."

"It was your fortieth birthday and you didn't tell me?" he asked, disappointed that he'd missed marking such a special occasion.

"No. It was my thirty-ninth. He never could keep them straight." She sighed and shifted position, but without removing her hand from under his. "And I didn't tell you because I thought that Altmers didn't celebrate things like birthdays."

"Well, we don't normally, but that doesn't mean I didn't want to know. I shall have to get you something wonderful to make it up to you. Anything you'd like?" He inquired lightly while rolling over onto his side to look at her. Though it was more like flopping on the spot - the bed certainly didn't have enough room for either of them to roll over with ease.

"Not flowers." She smiled over at him, her eyes muddy blue in the moonlight. Everything about her was shades of blue, from the faintest silvery light that highlighted the outline of her face to the inky black tones of deepest sapphire in the contours. The world wasn't black and white in the night time – it was black and blue.

"Though it's sweet of you to offer. I know it doesn't seem like very long to you, but to me it's a rather sobering number. Thirty-nine. One year shy of forty. One year shy of middle age." Millona murmured while twisting herself on the spot around to face Ocato, both keeping as much distance as possible given the overwhelming damp and warmth.

"That's still very young." He offered while admiring the way the moonlight traced the outline of her generous curves. If the summer's heat wasn't so intense he'd reach out and stroke them with his finger, but the last thing either of them wanted was more contact than absolutely necessary.

"I'm sure it is to you." Her bottom lip stuck out as she paused, thinking about something. "What is time like for mer? What do the years mean to them?"

"They don't necessarily mean anything. It's rather simple." He explained. "There is the past, all that's come before. And there is the future, that which will eventually come to pass. So the only time that really matters is the present, because that's what is. Surely it's the same for you."

"No." She shook her head, causing a few strands of curls to stick to her cheek. With a quick motion of her free hand she smoothed them off of her sweat drenched skin, annoyed by the clinging tendrils. Millona continued, her words the only animated thing about her as she lay languidly on the bed. "We measure our lives in years. I can portion them out, counting them forwards and backwards. Twenty years with my family, eight years with Corvus, eleven years alone, perhaps forty good ones left to be had. And there's the knowledge of the years of others, the age when one's child would be an adult, the age one might be a grandparent, the amount of years available for those stations in life. We're not vital and vibrant. We're just in a rush."

"And just where are you rushing to?" He tried to keep the amusement out of his voice. He loved the way she assumed so many things about merkind, always wanting to point out the differences between them.

"Me? I'm not sure. But at least I'm moving again." The curve of her ribs rose and fell with a large sigh. "Who knows which Millona I'll become. First it was the dutiful daughter, then the devoted wife, followed by the self-deluded martyr. Now it's all so new again. It's enjoyable though."

"I'm certainly enjoying it." His light response made her laugh. "And I hope you'll keep me around for the rest of the journey."

"I'm not about to let love slip through my grasp." The curl of a smile grew as she spoke, noting the way he blinked rapidly in surprise. "I love you, you timeless mer."

"I love you, you inspiring woman." Deciding to risk the heat he craned his head forward, his efforts rewarded with a soft, warm, kiss.

Millona pulled her head back, the flecks of gold in her eyes glowing silver in the moonlight as she smiled at him.

"So you say, and yet you won't help me get to sleep." The teasing note in her voice, the false pout of her lower lip, and the glow of love in his heart shattered his resolve.

"Well, it was your birthday, and I could use a bigger bed…" Letting the words trail off he rolled over, his arms dangling over the edge of the mattress, and proceeded to freeze the lower half solid. Pulling his arms back he lay still and counted the moments while listening to Millona sigh contentedly as the cold crept up from below.

There was a sudden crash as the wood, weakened by the moisture and overcome by the combined weight, splintered out to the sides and they jolted down on the mattress to land on the floor. Millona was laughing with delight and Ocato joined her.

As far as he was concerned if the Empire could afford to keep the Empress in clothes and the Emperor in furniture, then it certainly could afford to buy the High Chancellor a new bed.


	4. Chapter 4: Autumn's Bounty

The rosy golden glow of sunset lit the city below, lighting everything with a warm hue and casting long shadows as the sun sank down in the west. The sky was so many shades of petal soft colour - the halo of gold around the sun blended into pink, which turned into lavender before fading to a gentle blue. It was a magnificent end to a glorious fall day.

"Can you help me with the clasp? It's sticking." Millona clear voice made him turn around. The orange-tinted sunlight caused her light brown hair to look almost copper, and the little iridescent flecks in the string of amber beads she held up around her neck flashed like fire when she moved. Ocato lingered a moment just to look at her, marvelling at the radiant sight. He still found it remarkable how much he'd come to love her.

"Of course." As he answered he walked over to her seat in front of the dressing table. His quarters not only had a much sturdier and much larger new bed, but for some reason he'd also been given a second wardrobe, a dressing table with matching padded bench, and a velvet covered sofa. The extra furnishing had come in handy as sometime over the course of the summer Millona had come to take up residence with him, the move happening so gradually that he'd barely noticed it.

The Emperor didn't seem to have noticed it, though he suspected that the Empress had. The royal family was back in the Imperial City for the winter season. Ocato had noticed that Lilia seemed to be grinning at him in a delighted way every now and again, and he had a suspicion that she'd had a hand in the sudden influx of furniture in his suite.

"Thank you. I'll get Hamlof to fix it on Mondas." Millona adjusted the pieces of amber, twisting them into place with her delicate hands while checking her reflection in the mirror. The necklace was a gift from Ocato. When he'd seen the flashes of gold inside the honey coloured beads in Red Diamond Jewellery he couldn't resist picking it up for her. It reminded him so much of her enchanting eyes.

Standing behind her he watched as she smoothed her gown, patted her hair, and held her face at various angles. The protruding lower lip led him to believe she wasn't entirely satisfied with what she saw.

"You don't think I should have straightened my hair, do you?" Her inquiry caused him to shake his head.

"Absolutely not. I've never seen such glorious curls before." Reaching his hand up to touch the soft mass of hair, carefully pinned up into place, he felt a soft sting as she batted his fingers away.

"Do you know how long it took me to do that? Don't touch." Her scolding words were softened by her smile. The curl of her lips faded as she twisted her upper body to the side and ran her hands down the front of her dress. "Maybe I shouldn't have gone with a corset. Perhaps I should be trying to minimize things."

"That is ridiculous. You look absolutely luscious." Leaning forward he ran his hands down to follow the path that hers had taken. Bringing his head down, careful not to get too close to the carefully groomed hair, he rested his chin on her shoulder while looking in the mirror to see just what it was that his fingers were currently finding so delightful to the touch. "What man could possibly resist your ample charms?"

The merest flicker of her eyes as she quickly glanced away from the glass gave him his answer. Crouching down beside her he grabbed her closest hand and pressed it to his lips. He could feel the small calluses on her sewing fingers against his skin.

"We don't need to attend if you don't want to. I've heard that the collywobbles are going around." Millona shifted around on the bench and looked down at him, her mouth slightly open as he gently nibbled on the tips of her fingers.

"We must go. You're the High Chancellor, you can't miss the festivities. And I will not hide in here just because Corvus will be present." The determination in her voice contrasted with the heavy exhalations of breath she released as he teased the sensitive soft flesh between her fingers with the point of his tongue.

"Ocato." Millona stood up from the bench and he rose with her, refusing to give back her hand. As he nipped the mounds of her palm, his teeth gently grazing the skin, she feebly tried to tug her arm away. "We'll be late."

"The Empire survived for a year without an Emperor. I don't think it will suddenly collapse if the High Chancellor is a few minutes late to yet another party." Resting a knee on the cushioned bench he answered in between carefully placed kisses to her neck. His hands were busy tugging up the soft velvet of her skirt, gathering it up into a cloud of fabric around her waist.

"A few minutes? Do you know how long it takes me to get dressed?" Millona answered in between heavy breaths. Ocato's hands were removing the silken garments that prevented access to her warm skin.

"Who said anything about getting undressed?" He asked, but his question remained unanswered. Millona was far too occupied with clutching the dressing table in front of her for support as she made small whimpers of pleasure.

She was always telling him how she found his long fingers so very fascinating.

* * *

Every one of his senses was currently satisfied. The soft crackling of the fire, occasional pops and hisses signalling the departure of a torrent of sparks from the burning logs, was music to his ears. The slight scent of wood smoke, combined with the aroma of the fine wine in his glass, evoked memories of warm quiet evenings from years gone by. 

He sank back into the soft cushions of the sofa, his tired legs stretched out along its length, and admired the sight of Millona as she sat on the rug beside him. Her dressing gown puddled out around her, a tantalizing glimpse of thigh peeking out from where the fabric had fallen away.

The only thing that marred the scene was the stern expression on her face as she stared at the fireplace. She'd been rather subdued since they'd returned from the dance being held to celebrate the Warrior's Festival.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" he inquired while reaching out to touch her loose curls. Freed from their bonds they were once more his to safely play with.

"It was a nice evening. The company was generally pleasant," She replied softly. "It was good to see Commander Lex again. His fiancée is rather charming."

"They're engaged already?"

"Already? Time really is different for mer, isn't it? They met in Bruma almost a year and a half ago," Millona answered with a small frown.

Murmuring a noncommittal noise he traced his finger down the curve of her neck, over the amber beads, heated by the warmth of her body, and on to her shoulder. Idly drawing invisible circles he waited for her to speak, used to her quiet periods of contemplation by now. Whenever his fingertip ran over the edge of her dressing gown he tugged it ever so slightly to the side, wondering if he could get it to slip off her shoulder.

She shifted position, leaning her back further against the sofa, one hand unconsciously tugging up the gown towards her neck, oblivious to the expanse of leg now visible thanks to her movement.

"Did it bother you that I danced with him?" Millona asked quietly. Ocato sighed. He hadn't been pleased to see her waltzing around with Corvus, but the stiff way she'd held herself, and the small pout she'd worn the entire time, had calmed him.

"Do you want me to say yes?" he answered her question with one of his own. To his surprise she stood up and stalked over towards the armchair beside the fire, her gown flowing out behind her as she went.

"I don't know," she replied as she turned around to face him and he noticed her hand at her neck, absently twirling the amber pieces against her skin. He sat up while watching her, curious as to her sudden agitation.

"Do you know what he told me?" Her words were quick and clearly rhetorical. He shook his head softly as she continued on. "He told me that it broke his heart when I left him. _His_ heart!" She punctuated the loud exclamation by pointing her free hand at Ocato in an emphatic manner.

"The only thing it shattered was his ego," she muttered, shaking her head at the thought. "And I wasn't the one that left. He left me all those years ago. He's just mad that I'm the one who made it final."

"Millona, don't let it bother you. That was the past," Ocato tried to soothe her while gesturing for her to join him on the sofa. She didn't seem interested in the offer.

"The arrogance of that man!" Her words were perhaps a touch too loud as she walked over towards the padded bench. Sitting heavily on it she grabbed her hairbrush and ran it through her curls, the quick, angry, strokes turning her hair into a mass of frizz.

"To come back after all those years and expect me to go back to being the quiet devoted wife! As if I could return to the woman I used to be. As if I'd go back to turning a blind eye to his Bosmeri mistresses, his guild connections, his little comments that made me feel too Imperial. As if not being merish enough was my fault, making me think that if I was only more compliant, if only I was slimmer, if only I were more accepting he'd somehow love me more. Being left to rule his town on my own taught me that I wasn't as weak as I thought. Do you know how often I used to complain to him?"

The hairbrush stopped abruptly in its almost violent motion and she sighed deeply. Ocato stood and made his way over to join her.

"Never. I never once complained." The hairbrush was placed idly on the dressing table and he smoothed her hair gently with his hands, kissing the top of her head as he did. "But I should have. I can't blame him for everything. I'm sure it wasn't easy living with me, with my sullen glares and long suffering silences. I know I made him feel judged and unworthy as I propped myself up with my goodness and sweetness, wrapping myself up with my martyrdom, ever widening the gulf between us.

"I think there was love between us once, but we both let it die out as we waited for the other to say the things we left unsaid." She turned around on the bench, the gown sliding to the side to reveal an entire leg and generous curve of hip.

Looking up at him she clasped his hands in her own. He noted the way she squared her shoulders and tilted her chin up stiffly, the regal effect somewhat lessened by the halo of bushy hair around her face.

"I've come to a decision. You made it for me tonight. I will not wait around for you to realize that I'm no longer content to live my life on hold."

"Millona, what are you saying?" Panic caused his stomach to drop. He'd never seen her look so serious before.

"That I don't have the patience of a timeless mer. It's been seven months already. Why should I wait for you to notice that we're both happy?" The curl of her lip caused relief to course through him, though it didn't clear away the confusion her answer caused.

"What are you saying?"

"Marry me." The two words were so many things. A command, a plea, a question, and a declaration of love. Time-- a mere moment, a slow eternity-- passed between them as he looked down into her amber eyes. Ocato had no doubt she wouldn't wait a minute longer if he failed to answer.

Tugging her up she stood. His hand slipped around her neck as he bent his head down to hers, pressing his forehead against her own. The curl was on both sides of her smile as he spoke.

"Do you think I'd let a vibrant, inspiring woman such as yourself slip through my grasp? When would you like to have the ceremony?"

As he kissed her, pressing her decadent soft body against him, he was aware of shimmering colours outside the window. Millona's lips slid away and he found his mouth against her cheek.

"Ocato, why are there three sheep, an eyeball, and a heart sparkling outside?"

With a laugh he tugged her along as he slowly walked back towards the bed.

"Generally I find it best not to ask. Though in my experience it tends to mean the Emperor is due for a new sofa."

Pulling her onto the bed he smiled to see her laughing, the small wrinkles crinkling around the corners of her amber eyes. While she may not be a timeless mer, she was something he'd cherish for as many seasons as he could.

But in the meantime there was only the present, and her inspirational bounty of charms.


End file.
